


who knows your limit, who knows your highest

by 1dspoon (teaspoon)



Series: i and love and you [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Crying, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Painplay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Subspace, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:25:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2227263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaspoon/pseuds/1dspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn's plan for Liam's birthday present involves Harry being a very good boy for the two of them.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <i>After the St. Louis show, Zayn pulls Harry aside. His long, slender fingers wrap around the back of Harry’s neck, making him shiver.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Come on the bus with us,” he says, low and coaxing in Harry’s ear.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>They each have their own bus on this leg of the tour, and although they do take turns riding with each other, things have been kind of hectic lately. Just yesterday, they all wanted to do different things on their day off: Harry had stayed behind in Nashville while Zayn and Liam went to LA, the two of them splitting up when they got there. But now it’s barely two days until Liam’s birthday and Harry knows that Zayn’s been planning to celebrate early, before Liam’s parents meet them in Chicago.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	who knows your limit, who knows your highest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bunnymcfoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnymcfoo/gifts).



> Because it was Bunny's birthday and then it was Liam's, and both those things needed to be celebrated!

After the St. Louis show, Zayn pulls Harry aside. His long, slender fingers wrap around the back of Harry’s neck, making him shiver.

“Come on the bus with us,” he says, low and coaxing in Harry’s ear.

They each have their own bus on this leg of the tour, and although they do take turns riding with each other, things have been kind of hectic lately. Just yesterday, they all wanted to do different things on their day off: Harry had stayed behind in Nashville while Zayn and Liam went to LA, the two of them splitting up when they got there. But now it’s barely two days until Liam’s birthday and Harry knows that Zayn’s been planning to celebrate early, before Liam’s parents meet them in Chicago.

It’s easy to give Zayn a brief squeeze around the middle and nod, smiling at the way his body language relaxes when Harry agrees. It never ceases to amuse him that people can possibly find Zayn mysterious or closed off when he’s so easy for Harry to read.

Harry waves to some fans through a fence as he exits the venue, stopping to tell Paul that he’ll be riding on Zayn’s bus. Paul nods as if he already knows, and Harry quickly hops up the steps onto the bus. As he moves through the front lounge and galley kitchen, he smells stale weed and nice cologne, a faint hint of cardamom and tobacco. He skips through the narrow aisle between the bunks, slapping at the curtains — it’s so weird, each of them having all these extra beds in addition to the proper one in the back. He remembers when they used to all fit on one bus, stacked in the bunks or falling into puppy piles on the L-shaped couches in the back lounge. Things are obviously different now that the band’s bigger and so are the crowds, and they’ve got Bus 1 and Bus 2 even in Europe, but it’s still strange.

When he reaches the back, Liam and Zayn are sprawled out on the queen-sized bed, already half naked. He stands and watches quietly for a while, taking in the picture they make. They’re a study in contrasts: Zayn’s lithe, narrow frame stretched out over Liam’s broader, more solid one; Zayn’s thick black hair against Liam’s buzzcut just starting to grow out; the ink all over Zayn’s golden skin and the hint of pale where Liam’s boxers are riding low on his hips. Zayn rubs his fingertips through the hair on Liam’s chest as he kisses along the side of his neck, tasting the sweat he worked up during the show, their skinny legs all tangled up together. He’s had his fill of watching, and Harry steps forward quickly, eager to take his rightful place next to them.

Zayn looks up with a deceptively lazy smile, flicking his gaze all over Harry.

“Take off your clothes,” he says, which, duh, Harry was already planning to do. “And get on your knees.”

That’s all it takes for Harry to know. They don’t do it like this all the time, but it’s no secret among the three of them that Harry likes being told what to do sometimes, or that a sharp tug on his hair gets him really, really hard. His stomach is tied up in knots of nervous anticipation now, more so than before they went on stage, and he strips quickly, holding back a smile when Zayn tosses him a pillow. Harry kneels on it, his toes overlapping behind his bum, hands folded neatly in his lap.

“Good boy,” Liam says, and Harry straightens his spine proudly.

That’s a big part of it for Harry, the praise he gets for being good, for doing what his boys tell him. They don’t ever ask him to do anything he wouldn’t want to do, anyway. They’re still figuring it out, working out the kinks so to speak, but Zayn always knows exactly how much to push Harry’s limits and Liam really seems to understand the physicality of Harry’s needs, the desire and ability to give control of his body over to someone else.

“We’re heading out,” the driver calls from the front, in his twangy American accent. Harry feels a little bad that he doesn’t know Zayn’s driver’s name yet, makes a mental note to find it out later.

Zayn gets up and throws his voice loud down the length of the bus. “Cool, thanks.”

He closes the flimsy sliding door that separates off the bedroom as the vehicle starts moving, that familiar, soothing rocking motion underneath them. When he walks back over, he runs his fingers through Harry’s hair, feeling how it’s still wet and curling from Liam pouring water on him earlier.

“It’s not much longer til our Liam’s birthday, is it?” Zayn says. “I think it would be nice if we gave him an early present.”

He looks to Harry for a response. Harry nods, turning his head to look at Liam, lying on his side on the bed. Liam’s curled up into a comma, as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself now Zayn’s stood next to Harry, both their attention focused on him.

“You don’t have to…” Liam starts.

“I know,” Zayn says, and when Harry darts his gaze upwards, his expression is intense but fond. “We just want to make you feel good though, isn’t that right, Harry?”

Zayn tugs on his curls a little and Harry wishes he’d do it harder, but he knows that means he should use his words.

“That’s right. We love you and we want to make you feel special.”

Liam’s eyes crinkle up when he smiles, a hint of a blush in his cheeks, and Harry beams back at him, always so pleased when he’s the one who makes Liam look like that.

“Come here, babe,” Zayn says, stretching out a hand to Liam. “Harry, up on the bed.”

Harry doesn’t know what Zayn’s got planned yet, but he doesn’t mind that. That’s the whole point, really, of letting Zayn be in charge. He gets up, legs a little tired and wobbly, and watches Liam walk over to Zayn as he gets on the bed, waiting for further instructions.

Zayn turns Liam around, his back to Zayn’s front, and walks them both a few steps closer, within touching distance of Harry.

“Stay right here,” he tells Liam, pressing a kiss to his jaw as he moves away. When he reaches Harry, he pats the bed where it’s still warm from Liam’s body. “On your back, love. Head over the edge.”

Harry’s eyebrows knit together in confusion but he goes willingly, letting Zayn help him into the position he wants. When he tips his head back, it rests against the side of the bed and he can see Liam upside down.

“Hiii, Liam.”

“Hi, Haz.” Liam tilts his head to the side and grins at him.

“Take off your pants,” Zayn tells Liam, keeping things moving but still giving them plenty of time for everything. Harry knows they’ll be driving for hours yet, so there’s no hurry.

Liam tugs down his boxers and steps out of them, moving closer by instinct. Zayn takes his wrist and then trails his hand up Liam’s forearm as he walks behind him again, putting his hands on Liam’s hips, thumbs tracing the v-line of his obliques down towards his bare, half-hard cock.

“Harry’s gonna suck you off like this,” Zayn whispers in Liam’s ear, so quiet that Harry has to strain to hear it. He feels the sudden kick of arousal cut through the anticipation, making him clutch at handfuls of the sheets next to his thighs.

It’s a bit weird, being upside down while Zayn reaches around to stroke Liam’s dick, getting him harder. Harry wants it so bad now that he knows what’s coming. He loves sucking cock, and Liam’s is really nice — not quite as long as his own, but big and thick, heavy on his tongue. He licks his lips when he sees Zayn roll back the foreskin on the next stroke, revealing the pink mushroom head like he’s unwrapping it just for Harry.

“Open up, babe,” Zayn says, slowly feeding Liam’s cock into Harry’s mouth.

He’s sucked cock from a similar angle before, when he’s in the sixty-nine position, but he’s never done it with his head hanging off the bed. It makes him feel a bit helpless and claustrophobic, Liam’s warm hands on his cheeks as his dick forces Harry’s mouth open wider. He’s not even all the way in yet, the head rubbing against the smooth inside of Harry’s cheek, but it feels like a lot.

“Alright?” Liam asks, like he knows.

Harry raises one hand in a thumbs up, and Liam rubs reassuringly at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re doing so good,” Zayn says. “Just relax a bit more, yeah?”

He swallows around Liam’s cock and concentrates on opening up his throat, relaxing so he can make it good for Liam, for Zayn. He’s pretty skilled at this by now, but there’s still that initial urge to gag when the head of Liam’s cock pushes into his throat, the muscles clinging to the shape of it even as it burns. He hasn’t taken either of them this deep in a while, actually, not while they’re on tour, but it’s a special occasion and they don’t have a show tomorrow. He breathes through his nose as best he can, the tip of it nudged up under Liam’s balls. Liam smells musky but surprisingly good, or maybe it’s just that Harry loves the heavy, masculine scent between his legs, before a shower. Liam pulls out a bit and then thrusts back in, sloppier now with the amount of saliva that’s built up in Harry’s mouth. He closes his eyes against the dizzy combination of headrush and lack of control.

“He can take more than that,” he hears Zayn tells Liam, and there’s a hand rubbing over Harry’s chest that feels like Zayn.

Liam picks up the pace, properly fucking Harry’s face now, and it’s so good that Harry starts to feel a little fuzzy around the edges, his own cock jumping against his stomach with each thrust of Liam’s dick down his throat. Zayn shapes his hand around Harry’s neck, his thumb rubbing along the side.

“You know we can actually see Liam’s cock moving down your throat?” Zayn asks, so calmly that it takes Harry a moment to process the words.

He tries to moan, but the noise that comes out is garbled by Liam’s next thrust.

“It’s so fucking hot,” Zayn continues. His hand is still there, wrapping around Harry’s throat with just the slightest amount of pressure. “I can feel it like this, feel his cock inside you.”

Harry’s dimly aware of how hard he is, how wet and sticky his stomach is getting from the way his dick keeps drooling precome everywhere.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Liam groans.

The way he’s using Harry’s mouth while Zayn holds his neck and says filthy things in his ear has Harry feeling sympathetic, just about ready to nut off if someone so much as looks at his dick the right way.

“Tell him,” Zayn encourages.

Liam’s breath stutters on the exhale. “I’m gonna fill your mouth up, babe. Want you to hold it… hold it in your mouth so we can see.”

Harry’s so turned on he wants to cry. He thinks he might already be crying, actually: his face is wet with spit and the tears pushed out of the corners of his eyes whenever Liam’s cock presses in deep. His jaw aches and Liam’s balls keep slapping wetly at his upper lip, and he wants Liam to come, wants to know that he did a good job.

Liam swears, cutting off into a low grunt as he pulls back enough to come in Harry’s mouth. Some of it does slip down his throat, but he manages to keep the majority of it trapped between his tongue and his palate as Zayn and Liam manhandle him right side up again. He knows his face must be bright red after hanging his head like that while choking on Liam’s cock, but he doesn’t try to wipe his cheeks off, because he hasn’t been told that he can. He folds his hands in his lap again, Liam’s come collected in the cup of his tongue, pooling around the sides.

“Let’s see,” Zayn says.

Harry opens his mouth to show them.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” Liam’s cheeks are flushed too, and the awed look on his face makes Harry feel warm and happy all over.

He swallows when Zayn tells him to, then sticks out his tongue to prove it. He’s not expecting it when Zayn surges forward to kiss him, one hand tangled in his hair and the other trailing down his chest to his stomach, teasingly close to where his dick is standing straight up, hard and leaking. Zayn’s lips feel amazing against his sore mouth, tongue soothing over his lower lip and sliding against Harry’s tongue, the roof of his mouth. Zayn gives his hair a nice hard tug that makes Harry’s insides go liquid, another spurt of precome kicking out of his slit.

“What a good boy.”

Liam nods, sitting down on Harry’s other side. “Yeah, you’re our good boy.”

Harry turns his head towards him. He wants a kiss from Liam, too, but it’s not his place to ask for it, not right now. Luckily, Liam doesn’t make him wait, just hooks two fingertips under Harry’s chin and draws him in. Liam kisses him so sweetly, all gentle pressure and tiny flickers of his tongue like he’s afraid of hurting Harry just minutes after fucking his throat, and it makes him smile against Liam’s mouth.

Zayn yanks his head back so sharply that it makes his eyes water, and his balls seize up tight. He can’t come just from that, but his body certainly wants to try.

“You can make noise, baby,” Liam reassures him, kissing his throat, and he whines a little, shivering at the memory of Zayn’s hand there.

It’s clear that Zayn and Liam have talked things over, that Zayn wanted Liam to be in charge alongside him instead of topping both of them at once. Harry likes it both ways, but it’s amazing when they’re both focused on him, making him theirs even though it’s not his birthday. What he really loves, too, is knowing that they talked about it before he got there, about making him be good for them.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You listening to me, babe?”

Harry nods, pulling against the grip Zayn has on his hair. Each tug sends a thrill straight down to his cock.

“First, you’re gonna help me get Liam ready for my cock. Then if you’re really good, like, maybe we’ll let you come after I fuck him.”

The ‘maybe’ makes Harry’s stomach clench. They’ve only done it a couple of times, so far, where Harry doesn’t get to come after the other two, and it’s always intense. Even after his dick goes down, he feels shivery and oversensitive, on edge for the rest of the day or into the next morning. He gets off so hard afterwards, it’s worth it, but it’s also really nice to get the more immediate gratification, the affirmation that he’s done everything he’s been asked and can claim his reward. Besides, it’s Liam’s birthday and he wants to do whatever Liam wants — he would do even if they weren’t playing today.

Liam rolls onto his back, spreading his thighs so that Harry can settle between them, and Zayn hands him the lube.

“Start with your middle finger,” Zayn instructs him.

Harry rubs lube all over three of his fingers and then does as Zayn says, slowly nudging into Liam’s hole with his middle finger. Liam tightens up for a moment and then relaxes, taking him in smoothly, and Harry carefully moves his hand back and forth, letting him adjust around just one finger until he or Zayn says otherwise. He’s not hard yet, his cock still pink and a little wet from his recent orgasm. Zayn settles next to Liam, curling in close and rubbing his hip, the sensitive crease of his thigh.

“Think you can take another now, babe?”

Liam looks down at Harry, his pupils blown out. “Yeah, come on, Haz.”

He pulls out, and this time he pushes in with his middle and ring finger together, drawing a low groan out of Liam. He keeps going, rocking his hand up against the curve of Liam’s upturned hips, the heel of his palm brushing up against Liam’s balls. The only sound in the room is the three of them breathing. Liam’s breath goes shuddery and overwhelmed, but he doesn’t ask Harry to slow down or give him more. Harry’s first and pinky fingers are bent, pressing into the meat of Liam’s arse as he curls his middle two fingers. All the muscles in Liam’s abs and thighs jump when Harry hits the right spot, and he bites his lip and focuses on grazing there again on the next stroke. He keeps finding it, and Liam’s cock fills up all the way, head peeking out of its sleeve again.

When Harry looks up, he sees two sets of eyes staring down at him: Liam’s brown ones gone almost completely black, and Zayn’s lighter hazel ones, focused intently on what Harry’s doing with his hand.

“More,” Liam finally urges. Harry’s just about to add more lube so he can go in with three fingers, but Liam reaches down, folding himself nearly in half as he grabs Harry’s wrist. He blushes furiously, rosy down to the top of his chest, and Harry frowns at him, confused. “I mean, I’m ready.”

“For what?” Zayn asks, rubbing his thumb over the base of Liam’s dick.

“Shit.” Liam’s grip on Harry’s wrist tightens, two of Harry’s fingers still buried in him. “For you to fuck me. Zayn. Please.”

“Anything for the birthday boy,” Zayn says, with an easy smile.

He slides gracefully down to where Harry is holding Zayn’s place with his fingers, and Liam pulls Harry’s hand away slowly.

“Come here,” Liam says.

Harry crawls up the length of his body, much less coordinated than Zayn — it’s difficult to be graceful when he’s concentrating on not brushing his cock against anything so he doesn’t accidentally come before he’s been given permission. A brief, pleasant shiver runs down his spine at the idea of the boys coming up with a punishment for him, but tonight’s about Liam, so he’d rather be good than be punished, as enjoyable as that might end up being. He settles on his side next to Liam, putting his head on his shoulder but keeping his lower half a good distance away. Liam kisses the bridge of his nose and then the corner of his mouth, where it still stings a bit from how much his lips were stretched earlier. Harry looks down when he hears Liam gasp, and sees Zayn rubbing the head of his cock teasingly against Liam’s entrance, spreading more lube around.

“You sure you’re ready, Liam? You look tight.”

Liam huffs a little, wiggling his hips impatiently. “Yeah. Zayn, come on, I’m ready.”

No one should be that cute while asking to get fucked, honestly. Harry kisses his cheek and lets Liam squeeze his hand when Zayn finally guides himself inside, sinking in inch by inch. Liam catches his mouth in a desperate, messy kiss, mostly alternating between panting into Harry’s mouth and sucking on his lower lip. It means Harry can’t watch Zayn move inside him like he wants to, but he feels it the moment Zayn’s hips press flush against Liam’s arse. Liam’s body gives it all away, his spine a bow strung tight and his teeth digging into Harry’s lip.

Zayn rocks inside Liam, shallow thrusts to open him up more, and Harry’s dick twitches in sympathy.

“Tell Harry what you want him to do,” Zayn says, calm even though his jaw is set hard, the muscles in his hips and lower back flexing, his arse clenching as he fucks into Liam.

“I want…” Liam takes in a shuddering gasp of air. “I want to taste you.”

Harry looks down at Liam’s mouth: gorgeous, lush and rosy, falling open with each of Zayn’s thrusts.

“Are you gonna come if he sucks you?” Zayn asks.

He honestly doesn’t know if he can hold off, knowing the things Liam’s mouth can do. He wants to try, though. If Liam and Zayn want to test him like that, then he wants to see if he can do it. He shakes his head.

“No, I won’t. I’ll… I’ll warn you if I’m too close?”

“Yeah.” Liam looks relieved now that he’s about to get what he wants, as if there was any doubt that both of them want to give him everything, especially tonight. “Come here, sweetheart.”

The endearment makes Harry’s chest tighten and his nose scrunch up, and he clambers further up the bed, kneeling next to Liam’s head.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Zayn says, thrusting into Liam hard enough to jolt him up the mattress. “I wanna watch.”

Liam turns his head. Harry moves his hips forward just a little, to make it easier for him, and Liam mouths over the tip of his cock, sucking gently. All his muscles lock up, the suddenly stimulation almost overwhelming him. He clasps his hands together behind his back, toes curling, and thinks about holding off, thinks about all the praise he’ll get if he can manage it.

He can hear the slap of skin on skin as Zayn fucks Liam harder now, but it sounds like it’s coming from the next room, not as immediate as the sensation of Liam’s lips and tongue taking him further into that slick heat — Liam has a mouth like a hoover, and he can get Harry off in minutes on a good day. The longer he holds off on coming, the more he starts to feel a bit floaty. They haven’t been doing this properly for very long, so he still never knows when he’s going to slip into that headspace until he’s most of the way there already.

Harry closes his eyes and lets it wash over him, the feeling of being under. He’s still conscious but he feels different somehow, like he’s not completely there or anywhere. He can feel everything that’s happening to his body, Liam’s hot, sucking mouth on his cock, the way he’s still tensed up all over, but it’s at a distance, more like how you feel things in a memory than an actual, immediate feeling. It’s similar to meditation, in that his mind is mostly cleared out, just floating and feeling. He feels it more when Liam pulls off his cock and digs his nails into the meat of Harry’s thigh, the sharper sensation dragging him halfway back, but he’s still so relaxed inside his head that even the hurt just feels completely good.

Liam’s making the kind of noises that mean he’s about to come, and Harry forces his eyes open, fighting against the heaviness of his eyelids so he can watch as Zayn fucks Liam’s release out of him, his cock untouched on his stomach, blurting out come in quick bursts. Liam’s dick is still dripping a slow stream of jizz when Zayn thrusts into him one more time and buries himself deep. Zayn’s almost silent when he comes, mouth open in an o of surprise, his back arching gorgeously. Harry lets his shoulders drop, waiting patiently for one or both of the boys to come down enough to give him instructions.

It feels like a long time, or no time at all, before he’s got two pairs of hands carefully unfolding his limbs, settling him down on his back. The mattress feels so soft, the sheets rubbing against his skin like a favourite, threadbare shirt. He’s cosy and safe and loved, and he lets his eyes fall shut again.

He feels a large, slick hand wrap around his cock. He thinks it’s Liam’s, and that he’s probably using lube, and it feels so good, his grip almost as wet and tight as the inside of his mouth. Zayn rakes his nails down his chest, short and blunt but digging in enough to hurt, enough to get him right up to the edge again.

“Fuck,” he says, and it’s more of a croak than anything, his voice ill-used and hoarse.

He feels Zayn’s hand cover Liam’s, both of them wanking him together, and it’s too much, it’s too much and he’s definitely going to come. His eyes squeeze shut, tears dripping down the sides of his face into his hairline, trailing into the shell of one ear. He keens with sensitivity when someone rubs a thumb over the head of his dick, dipping into the slit just the way he likes, and he’s so close, he’s so close, he can’t hold out anymore, it’s too much.

“You can come, darling,” Liam says, and Harry lets go.

The release is a rush so intense that it almost hurts. It feels like he’s coming out of his skin, like one endless feedback loop of pleasure that drains him completely. When he finally comes back to himself, he realises that he’s been crying, snuffling wetly against Liam’s chest as both Liam and Zayn rub his back and sides.

“You okay, babe?”

Zayn palms Harry’s belly while Liam pets at his hair, both of them still bracketing him with their bodies, keeping him warm and safe.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, lifting his face out of Liam’s always surprisingly soft chest hair so he can be heard. “That was really good, it was just… a lot.”

“Was it too much?” Liam asks. He breathes out a relieved sigh over the top of Harry’s head when he immediately shakes his head no.

“You were so lovely and good for us,” Zayn says.

The combination of praise and constant physical reassurance helps lift the fog that’s clouding his head, although he still whines a little when they make him sit up and drink some water.

“I’ve got a banana and an apple for you too, if you like.”

Zayn opens his nightstand drawer to reveal the fruit, and Harry can feel himself beaming like a child as he takes the apple — he had a banana earlier, and the apple looks unbruised and perfect.

Before he bites into it, he nudges Liam with his knee. “Was that a good birthday present?”

Liam rubs his thumb over Harry’s kneecap, and Zayn watches both of them curiously, waiting for the answer.

“Yeah, that was perfect. You were… when you came, you were fucking gorgeous, Harry. Thank you, both of you.”

He watches Zayn lean over his lap to kiss Liam, smiling as he bites into his apple. His heart is full and his mouth floods with sweetness.


End file.
